Faust locked the door and removed his swords and cloak. There was no telling when he’d get another chance to bathe even if it did leave him in a vulnerable position. He needed to be careful and keep his magic under control now that he was in the air. A fall from this height would kill him, and he couldn’t reveal he was a deity in this climate before finding his gate.
Faust removed his armor from under his tunics, tucking it under some clothing with his swords and pouches. He felt naked without his swords, but he couldn’t haul them to the baths. He grabbed the key and locked the door on his way out.
Chapter Seven
Faust slid the door to the baths open, relieved to find it empty. He stripped, carefully unwrapped his leg, and left his clothes folded in a basket near the entrance. He wrapped a small linen sheet around his waist and examined the sticky bandage on his thigh, still amazed it didn’t need to be removed.
Faust tugged at the leather cord with his rings, hesitating. He steeled himself and untied it, burying it in his clothing, but kept his bracelet. Ignas had it made lavishly to show off their wealth, and Faust hoped few would ask once he messed with it. He let the gemstone dangle from the chain against his palm and walked into the baths.
Steam rose from the large sunken bath, and colored tiles rippled beneath the surface, revealing long benches around the edges for seating. Wooden panels stuck up out of the water in the center of the baths with more seating. It looked more like a place for socializing rather than bathing.
Faust shook his head and headed for the far wall where bathing items were piled under the mirrors. He sat down and pulled the scrap of tunic from his hair, fluffing it out. It didn’t look too bad. He checked his eyes for specks of purple, relieved he saw none. He couldn’t risk any signs of his deity side showing.
He washed leisurely and lathered his hair with scented oils. By Alimphis, he missed being this clean. He hadn’t been able to be this clean since he awoke in the forest. Faust dumped water over his head, sighing. Once he’d restored order for Alimphis, he would relax anytime he bathed.
The door to the baths opened, interrupting Faust’s relaxation. He froze, eyeing the Mark of Linos in the mirror. Faust jerked to his feet, looking for something to cover his chest.
Gawain stepped into the bathing area with a short towel around his waist, his golden aura shimmering in and out of existence.
Faust swallowed. Gawain was a striking and chiseled man with a few scars. Faust turned his back to the guild leader, cursing. His own scars were on display, but it was a better option than the Mark of Linos. Faust locked eyes with Gawain when he turned his head, his heart pounding. He shouldn’t be alone with someone who followed Koros. He’d have to make a break for it somehow, especially with the anger rising over Gawain’s face.
Gawain balled his fists, a flush catching his cheeks and neck. “By Alimphis, Rath. Who did that to you?”
Faust gripped at the gemstone in his palm, concentrating on keeping his breathing level. It was one thing for Ignas, Aris, or Mika to ask him, but Faust didn’t feel the need to lament his torment to someone he just met nor give Gawain information to share with Koros.
Gawain inhaled and exhaled slowly. “You don’t have to explain,” he said. “You will be safe in my guild. We do not allow such behavior here.”
Faust had his doubts, but he could read the underlying meaning. Whipping and other forms of punishment took place in Drokan. “Thank you,” Faust said, but he did not turn. Gawain might sense him use magic if he did anything now, and the last time he tried a water veil, a section of the forest disappeared.
The door to the baths banged opened with a frantic shuffle as it closed again. “Rath! Are you here?” Cian stumbled into the bathing area, shooting Gawain a glare. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he’d be—” Cian’s words fell short, his eyes widening with a mixture of horror and anger as he gazed upon Faust’s back.
Faust rubbed at his gemstone, not daring to make eye contact with Cian, but he caught another brief flicker of white. The man’s aura appeared in moments of intense emotion, suggesting Cian had far more control than most. Faust had seen this only with those around Vasil.
Cian’s magic drifted with wind around Faust as if Cian would protect him alongside Alimphis. Faust hoped he could, but Alimphis’s magic shifted, and moisture gathered across Faust’s chest, covering the Mark of Linos in a thin but powerful water veil.
Faust relaxed.
“If you want privacy, I can come back later, Rath,” Gawain said.
Faust turned. “It is all right.”
Cian’s gaze fixated on Faust’s chest, the tension in his shoulder’s loosening.
Faust narrowed his eyes. Cian’s reaction was more than curious. He hadn’t done anything to suggest he was the High King, or that he carried anything on his chest.
Gawain grinned and waltzed to the washing area, picking up a pail of water. “Join us, Cian.”
“That will not be necessary.”
Gawain hoisted the pail of water up and flung the water at Cian.
Faust jumped, but the water stopped in midair, twirling.
Cian’s water stone pulsed a deep blue at the man’s hip, and a cold smile crossed his lips. “No matter how many times you try that, it will not work, Gawain.”
Gawain shrugged. “Just once I’d like to see you not so composed. Join us if you feel like it.”
Faust eyed Cian out of the corner of his eye. Cian returned the water to the pail with a flick of his hand. The man had impeccable control, far more than Faust thought possible for someone of his apparent age. With Cian here, it gave Faust a way to divert conversations away from himself if Gawain got nosy.
Cian stared at Faust, reaching a decision. He turned back to the entrance, disappearing into the area of baskets.
Faust took the lull to slip into the warm water. It felt good. He stared at the far wall while Gawain washed up along the wall, and Cian joined him.
“If I’d known an assistant would make you more personable, I would have given you one sooner, Cian,” Gawain said after a brief silence.
“Only he will do,” Cian said.
Gawain chuckled. “You are an odd one, Cian.”
“Suits me fine,” Cian droned.
Gawain stood and walked to the bath, wading down into the middle to sit on the benches opposite of Faust.
Faust sank more into the water, keeping his chest below the surface.
Cian slid down into the water an arm’s length away from Faust, his demeanor holding a bit of superiority.
The white aura had flickered briefly again, revealing a strong concentration at Cian’s shoulders. He showed the qualities of a Blessed—like Mika.
High King.
Faust sat upright, covering his ears. The voice needed to leave him alone.
“Are you all right?” Gawain asked.
Faust threw his hands down, splashing water into the air. “I am fine. I just got a chill.”
Gawain frowned. “Are you getting ill? Should I call our healer?”
Faust shook his head. “I am fine, I swear.”
“I will see to anything he needs, Gawain,” Cian said.
Gawain smiled. “You act as if I will try wooing him.”
Cian glared.
Faust looked between the two several times.